Daddy's Girls
by Shanonei
Summary: The Joker's in town and madness reigns in Gotham, and two girls on the borders of madness are about to have the time of their lives. Two girls, Kristy and Lena, dragged themselves out of a life: a life of abuse, a life of hell, and warped themselves into two of Gotham's most wanted queens of crime. To them, it was all fun and games... until HE found them...
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

"_If you ever need anything, just give me a call," he told the young girl, handing her his business card. She took it, staring quizzically at it, like the words printed on it were foreign to her. He gave her a small, tight smile before turning away, leaving the eleven-year-old behind. She stood there, dumbfounded, watching him leave._

* * *

Lieutenant James Gordon shook his head, clearing away the remnants of a distant memory. He needed to focus on work, not daydreams, which he seemed to be giving way to more often these days. It had been several years since the day he'd seen that girl. For some reason, he couldn't stop thinking about her. He couldn't help feeling like something was wrong, like he'd missed something, like he should have stayed with her until a parent or guardian came along to find her and take her home.

He was concerned that whoever had been taking care of her was abusive. She hadn't had any bruises or cuts or anything of the sort the day he'd found her, but you didn't have to be physically abusive to hurt someone, especially a child. If there were wounds, they may have been emotional. And in his experience, some children didn't reach out when something was wrong. They were taught that this was okay, and that they'd be in very big trouble if they tried to get help.

"Lieutenant?"

Lieutenant Gordon glanced up from his desk. Detective Ramirez was standing in the open doorway, concern etched into her tense face.

"Yes?" He asked.

"Detective Stephens just brought a teenage girl in," Ramirez replied, "She's in the interrogation room. Says she will only speak to you."

Gordon frowned. This was very odd. Not many young women were arrested in Gotham City, nor did they usually insist on only talking to him when they were brought in. "Did you get a name from her?" The lieutenant inquired.

"No. And we have nothing on record on her, either."

Now very curious, Gordon stood from his chair and followed Ramirez out towards the interrogation room. Once there, he glanced in through the window to find a teenage girl sitting at the desk, looking bored to all hell. He instantly recognized her as the girl from all those years ago. Her name was Kristy Johnston. Back then, she had strawberry blond hair and an innocent look in her eyes. Now, her hair was dyed blood red, her eyes surrounded by black greasepaint in the shape of spades with red streaks rolling down her cheeks, to look as if she was crying blood, and purple paint smeared across her lips and up the right side of her face, a perpetual half-smile, and her emerald eyes shone with fiery hatred.

What had happened to her?


	2. Arrested

**Chapter One**

**Arrested**

**-One Hour Earlier-**

The girl with the long, black hair pulled back in a French braid glared angrily at the nearby police car as red and blue lights washed over her. She set her jaw, clenched her leather gloved fists so tight her hands ached. There was a body lying several feet from her, groaning loudly and bleeding out from the abdomen. A small group of kids were huddled up next to the guy on the ground, murmuring anxiously to each other as the paramedics heaved him onto a gurney. They strapped him tightly to the gurney, loaded him inside the waiting ambulance, and drove off, sirens blaring obnoxiously.

The girl, Sinn, watched from behind thick ebony lashes as one of Lieutenant Gordon's detectives handcuffed her best friend, the Ace of Spades, without any trouble whatsoever. She never even put up a fight as he shoved her into the back of his squad car. Once she was in and somewhat comfortable, the detective, who Sinn quickly recognized as Detective Stephens, slid into the driver's seat of the police car. He disappeared down the street with Ace in tow in seconds.

Sinn growled like a rabid beast deep in her throat, swearing with a vengeance that she was going to track Detective Stephens down and kill him. She would corner him like a helpless infant and pump his fat body so full of lead he was unrecognizable. _Why_ did Ace have to be so dense?

"I knew it!" Sinn cried defiantly, stomping on the ground with one booted foot. "I _knew_ she was going to get herself arrested."

Grumbling angrily to herself, Sinn turned, her cobalt trench coat flapping in the air after her, and nearly smacked into the broad chest of a tall man wearing an ugly grey suit. She frowned deeply at the clown paint smeared across the Joker's face; pale white covered the majority of his face, ebony black kohl surrounded his eyes, and blood red across his lips and up the grotesque scars across his cheeks. Oily, stringy, green-tinged curls hung around his face. His jade eyes were focused entirely on the cop car making off with Ace, like he didn't even realize there was an older teenager standing in front of him.

Completely disregarding the 9mm handgun in one of his hands and the razor sharp switchblade in the other, Sinn rolled her eyes at the crazy circus freak, gingerly inching past him, headed towards her 2007 Maserati parked at the corner.

She didn't have time to deal with him.

"Who…" he began slowly, staring after the police car Sinn's best friend was riding in. "Who… was tha-_t_?"

"My idiot friend," Sinn growled. "I shouldn't have let her outside."

"Why? You, uh, _scared_ she'll spill some… _important_…s_eeee_cret?"

Sinn stopped dead in her tracks, thinking carefully about how she'd respond. Part of her didn't want to admit to what she was afraid of, but another part insisted that he could be trusted, that she _should_ trust him. Right. Trust the killer clown from hell's worst neighborhood. The harder she tried to ignore it, toss it aside mercilessly, beat it to death with the butt of an AK-47, the stronger the urge to confide in him became. She snarled under her breath and reluctantly confessed, "No. I'm afraid they'll lock her up in Arkham."

Something in her mind purred happily and snuggled itself up into a languid little ball, relaxing into the depths of her psyche. She grunted in disgust, quickly readjusting her dark blue corset and skin tight leather leggings just to make herself feel a little better.

"Do you, uh, think she's _crazy_?"

Sinn turned back around. For a moment, the two of them just stared at each other. _Did_ she think Ace was crazy? No. No, she didn't. However, Ace had been labeled clinically insane only six months ago. The girl had "accidentally" killed a man with a nail filer. She'd jammed it into his right eye socket, popping his eyeball and penetrating his brain, inevitably murdering him. He'd had it coming to him, though. If he hadn't been trying to rape her, he might still be alive. Then again, if he hadn't tried, she'd still be stuck in a very unpleasant position with the Italian mob boss, Salvatore Maroni.

"No. But _they_ do."

* * *

_Ding… Ding… Ding… Ding…_

Adrian jerked his head up off the desk, blinking away any lingering drowsiness. He glanced up at his grandfather clock, still chiming, noting that it was only one in the morning. He'd been working on a seven page essay for his psychology class with having only completed four pages so far. It was due in a few days; he needed to focus so he could finally finish it.

Adrian stood from his chair, stretching and yawning widely. He figured he'd would take a few moments, wander around, and get the creative juices flowing. The eighteen year old took one step into his kitchen when a white hot boiling rage nipped at the edges of his mind. He went completely still for a moment, focusing on it, seeing if it would build any further. It seemed so… familiar. Why did he feel like he knew where this fury was emanating from?

Suddenly, images, fleeting and flashing, smashed into Adrian's skull; a sharp, shooting pain so intense he doubled over, clutching his head-

_-Black hair, flashing dark eyes, dusky skin washed out by blue light, demonized by crimson-  
-Dark hair, beautiful familiar eyes bright with hate as she drummed her fingers on a metal table top-  
-Darkness and flickering flame and maniacal laughter and three women, distinct in their voices, screaming-_

And the images stopped. Adrian dragged in a gulping breath and straightened up, rubbing his temples. What had that all been about? There was only one possible explanation. He had recognized the two women from the first two images - Helena and Kristy. Something must have happened to one of them.

_Lena._ The words were terse and rough with suppressed violence. _Reach out to Lena._ Something grabbed a hold of the youth and forced him to obey, forced him to expand his mind outwards, looking for that spark of blue-black flame dancing in the dark.

_Did Kristy do something stupid again?_ Adrian inquired softly, projecting the thought out to her as best he knew how.

_No,_ Sinn snarled viciously, any attempt at sarcasm failing to show through. _I'm pissed because the ground tried to fall out from under my feet. No, I'm pissed because Dexter Morgan tried to axe me with a chainsaw. Oh, no, I'm pissed because Johnny the Homicidal Maniac ran off with my favorite pair__ of black lace panties. Duh, _of course_ she did something stupid. She got herself arrested!_

* * *

**-Present-**

Ace sighed heavily, blew a lock of scarlet hair out of her face, and sat back in the chair. Deafening silence bore down on her ears like a three-ton weight atop a cardboard box. She'd have lost her mind completely if it weren't for the thought of what Lieutenant Gordon might say when he finally entered the interrogation room. She already knew he was going to reprimand her for attacking an innocent civilian, jagged claws and razor fangs bared as she leapt at the kid, threatening to rip him up into itty bitty bloody shreds of rotting hamburger meat just because he let out a lewd wolf whistle in her general direction. The gruesome image brought an evil smile to her violet lips. The kid may not have even been whistling at her, but he was definitely complimenting _someone_ on their… _interesting _appearance.

Just because she was wearing a blood red trench coat that fell to her ankles, a black camisole, a pair of red, baggy cargo pants, crimson leather gloves, and black tennis shoes, people treated her like she was a freak. She liked the way she looked. She picked her clothes to make herself feel strong. It was an old trick of women everywhere, not that the GCPD appreciated that fact. The idiot detectives at the MCU had removed her trench coat and gloves before throwing her into a holding cell and then into the interrogation room so Gordon could ask her what the hell she had been thinking.

And right now, right at this particular moment in time, she was so _bored._

_What's taking him so long?_ Ace thought irritably, staring blankly at the large door across from her, waiting, expecting it to open any moment now. As if on cue, the door swung open noisily. Gordon entered the interrogation room. Ace kept her veridian gaze riveted on his tense face even as she continued tapping her foot, slipping one arm over the back of her chair.

Lieutenant Gordon took a seat across from Ace, linking his fingers together. He took a deep breath. Ace cocked her head to the side like a small, curious puppy. The room was silent again for a long moment before Gordon finally said, "What were you thinking?"

"That you're just too much fun," Ace answered arrogantly, grinning wickedly.

"You realize you could go to jail for this, right?" He sounded concerned. The insane smirk melted off her face immediately. She narrowed her gaze at the lieutenant dangerously.

"Do I _look_ like I care?" She snarled viciously. "That kid had it comin' to him."

"That doesn't make it right for you to threaten to take his life like that."

"I wasn't threatening him."

Gordon stared at her, waiting for her to elaborate. She glanced at the two-way mirror, imagining she could see the solemn faces of his detectives. They were all just itching to have a reason, ridiculous or not, to lock her up in prison, or in Arkham Asylum with all the other psychotic, raving lunatics who have simply lost their reason for being.

Ace closed her eyes to block out the bright, fluorescent lights. She paused for a moment to think of how she'd respond.

"I was… promising him that I'd remove his burden of ever having to judge anyone on their appearances ever again," she explained coolly.

"The other kids said you threatened him with a kitchen knife."

Ace could feel Gordon's intense blue eyes searching her face for any signs of possibly regretting her actions. She realized suddenly that she really did not care at all. Scaring the hell out of those kids was the most fun she'd had in months.

"So they did." She opened her eyes, looked at the lieutenant. "That doesn't change anything."

"Kristy," he said softly and she tensed, inhaling sharply, glaring daggers at him. No one had called her that in over six months. It brought painful memories to the foreground of her mind, memories of a certain Italian mob boss and a little girl drugged into weakness, with tears of pain and fear in her eyes, calling out for anyone to help her. Ace ruthlessly shoved them aside. Now was not the time to go waltzing down Memory Lane butt naked.

"Don't. Call. Me. That," she hissed through clenched teeth. She balled her hands into fists, breathing deep to maintain a firm grip on her control.

"Then what do you want me to call you?"

"Ace," she growled menacingly. "My name is Ace."

Gordon sighed, gazed at his hands. They were both quiet for another long moment. Finally, after what seemed like eternity, the lieutenant said, "Alright, Ace. I need to check on something. I'll be back in a few minutes." He rose to his feet, turned, approached the solid metal door. Ace jumped when the loud buzzing sounded in the small room. Gordon gave her a small, tight smile before wrenching the door open and disappearing through the narrow doorway, leaving her to ponder her thoughts.


	3. Gordon's Cage

**Chapter Two**

**Gordon's Cage**

She was so _bored_. There was nothing to do except lean back in the metal chair, feet propped up on the gray metal table in the interrogation room. Ace glared at the bare ceiling, pretending she was invisible to any disapproving glances Gordon's detectives were probably giving her through the two-way mirror. She was silently praying the lieutenant would come back. The scarlet haired girl was pissed to all hell at him, and for one simple reason: he'd given her his attention for all of ten minutes. _Ten minutes!_ What was the point of being arrested and trapped in the lieutenant's cage, with the intention of getting reprimanded by him, if he wasn't even going to be there? That meant she'd spent half the day nagging Sinn to let her go outside, attacking some stupid kid for no damn reason, and letting the fat detective cuff her and drag her back to the MCU, for _**ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!**_

_**AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHH!**_

Ace shrieked her anger and rage in her mind as loud as she could, drowning out the annoying little voices in her head. Her teeth were bared in a furious snarl as wicked hot fire burned in her veins. She clenched her teeth together so hard her jaw ached. A loud, irritating ringing in her ears made her muscles tense, coiling like springs, the urge to bash someone's skull in with a monkey wrench rising dangerously close to the surface. Ace's entire body shook with irrepressible fury. If someone were to even look at her funny this very moment in time, she'd dig her nails into their flesh and tear, rip the skin off their body, peel every bit of it off their bones, until nothing was left but a heaping mass of bloody, rotting meat.

"You are so _stupid!_" Ace yelled out into the small room, hauling her feet off the table. The chair fell forward, a little too quickly to be safe. "What was the whole point of all of this if you won't even- OW!" The front legs of the chair collided with the cement floor, hard, and Ace toppled out of it. As she fell, a jagged edge of the table caught her right arm, slicing her pale skin open, and blinding agony flared up her arm. She hit the ground with a loud _thud_, crying out in pain from the impact. Despite all this, she opened her mouth wide as uncontrollable laughter erupted from her throat.

Pain. Ha. In situations like these, pain was freaking hilarious.

She continued to giggle hysterically as blood tickled her skin, dripping down her forearm. She licked some of the ruby liquid from her fingertips, which spasmed from the shooting fire near her elbow. Her chest burned as she hiccupped and laughed. Her throat burned, her head swam, and her lungs ached. She realized that despite the giggles pouring out of her mouth, they were becoming as fragile as soap bubbles, frail and insubstantial. The air she dragged into her mouth was pushing futily against her closing airway. She couldn't get enough breath into her lungs. Spots were dancing in front of her eyes.

_Oh, crap,_ she thought frantically, trying to stop the laughter. She fumbled for her pocket, patting the fabric, looking for the telltale lump against the cotton that told her where her inhaler was. Wait. They'd confiscated it at the door. _Oh, God. Oh, no, no, no..._

The door flew open and through the darkening haze in front of her vision, she saw Gordon running to her, dropping to his knees, and something cold and hard and plastic shoved between her slack lips. She recognized it vaguely, enough to remember to close her mouth around the plastic. Mist the taste of battery acid coated her throat and she gasped raggedly even as her throat began to relax. Ace sucked eagerly at the mouthpiece as another spritz of medicine hit her. After several minutes, she sagged back and let her body flop down on the floor.

"Thanks," she muttered. "Took you freakin' long enough."

"I'm sorry, Kristy. Are you all right?"

"Ace," she corrected him acidly, breathing heavily. "And I'm _fine_. Thanks for the_ concern_."

"Let me see your arm."

"Why should I?" She demanded.

"Because you're bleeding."

"Like you even care."

"Please?"

Ace pulled herself up into a sitting position, stretching her injured arm out to the lieutenant. He quickly examined the wound on the back of her arm, which was still bleeding sluggishly. The skin itched where the scarlet fluid had dried already, but the crimson haired girl was more concerned about the stabbing, searing discomfort to bother scratching. She stared hard at him, observing silently as he cleaned and wrapped up her arm with some gauze and medical tape he'd brought in with him.

"Feel any better?" He asked.

Shrugging apathetically, she murmured, "Not really."

Gordon sighed, considering the situation. Finally, after a long moment, he said, "Sit tight for a minute. I'll be right back."

Scowling venomously, watching him leave yet _again_, Ace grumbled under her breath, thinking to herself, _Stupid son of a bitch. Get back here._

Ace snarled under her breath, bored out of her mind. Gordon was such a dead beat. Okay, so maybe he was a police lieutenant. Maybe the man had his own family, a wife and two kids. Perhaps she was too demanding. Maybe he wasn't at her beck and call.

Then again, maybe he ought to be.

"Kristy," his voice snapped her out of her furious reverie. She glanced up even as she stood to sit in the chair, slamming her boots back on the metal table, watching as the policeman strode into the interrogation room, looking almost at a loss as to what to do. She almost felt sorry for him for a second. In his face, she saw the man who had found her years ago, tried to help her, told her to call if she ever needed help. But that thought was the wrong one. It reminded her that he hadn't been there. He'd lied to her. So she focused, not on the betrayal, but on the name.

"My name," she hissed, "is Ace, pencil dick."

"Whatever. Your cell phone just went off. Someone named Adrian." At Gordon's words, Ace perked up. Adrian had called? That almost never happened. The young woman wondered just what the college student could possibly want. Another 'experiment' for his psychology class? Ace wondered sarcastically. Who knew? Then the incarcerated girl realized Gordon was still talking. "Do you want to talk to him?"

"You've got him on the line?" Ace demanded. Great, they were eating up her minutes. But Gordon shook his head.

"Everyone gets a phone call. You want this one to be yours?"

"Yeah," Ace said without hesitation. "Yeah. Lemme talk to him."

"Here ya go," he replied, and tossed her the cell. He watched as Ace hit 3 on her phone and then send. Adrian was the third person on her speed dial, first being voice mail, and second being her best friend in the world, who knew of her current predicament already. She held the phone to her ear, listening to the ring. Her friend picked up on the fourth ring.

"So, I hear you've been arrested. Again."

Ace should have known he was just joking; she could hear the smile in his voice.

"I've never been arrested before," she replied in exasperation.

"I know," he said. He was chuckling softly. "Sinn told me where you are. She also told me that Dexter Morgan tried to axe her with a chainsaw _and_ that Johnny the Homicidal Maniac tried to run off with her favorite pair of black lace panties."

"Yeah, that sounds like her."

"Anyways, what did you do to get yourself thrown in jail?"

"I attacked some kid."

"Didn't I tell you _not_ to do that?"

Ace bit her bottom lip, reluctantly answering, "Maybe." She stretched her emerald eyes up to glance at Gordon through her thick hair. He merely stared back at her, waiting patiently for her to finish with the phone call. Her stomach twisted itself into a knot. If there was one thing she thought extremely creepy, it was when people refused to take their eyes off her and look somewhere else.

"And didn't Sinn tell you not to?" Adrian inquired, reminding Ace of their conversation.

"Probably. But I had a point for doing it."

"And what would be the point?"

The girl with scarlet hair lowered her voice so no one could hear her whisper, "To piss off Lieutenant Gordon." Unfortunately, even her friend hadn't understood what she'd said and she had to repeat it, louder. Ace noticed Gordon narrowing his gaze at her. She looked at her feet, doing her best to ignore him.

"What, is he your boyfriend now?"

"No! He's a cop!"

"Ooooh! A man in uniform, huh? Someone's going for the gold. Or should I say the blue?"

"He's not my boyfriend!"

"Okay, Chowder."

"What… I haven't been outside the apartment for six months. How in the hell-"

"I'll call you a lawyer," Adrian interrupted suddenly. "I'll call my step-dad and his lawyer, okay? I figure that's why you called."

"You creep me out sometimes, you know that?"

"Everyone creeps you out," he said seriously. "So, will that save your ass?"

"Probably," Ace informed him, grateful.

"Good. Hey, I gotta go. I need to be up in five hours."

Ace's jaw hit the floor. "Are you out of your mind?" She cried incredulously. "Why in the hell are you up at one in the morning if you have to be up at six?! More importantly, how can you stand to get up at such an early hour?"

"This coming from the woman who wakes up at the crack of noon every day," he replied solemnly. "I'll talk to you later, Kristy. Bye!" He hung up before she could say anything else. She grumbled something obscene to herself before flipping the phone closed. The young woman was going to be sure she threw a shoe extra hard at him the next time she saw him for hanging up on her like that.

Ace hung up, tossing her phone onto the table. She glanced at the two-way mirror, gently chewing on the inside of her cheek. It barely registered with her that Gordon was talking to her, but she didn't hear what came out of his mouth. Not that she was intentionally ignoring him. She was distracted, thinking about Sinn. The older girl was probably going to give her a ten mile lecture for being stupid enough to get herself arrested. After all, Ace hadn't done anything this idiotic since the time she stuck a can of Axe Body Spray in the microwave for five minutes just to see if it would explode under all that pressure. She wasn't sure if the microwave was dead or not after that little experiment, but the body spray definitely didn't make it. Funniest freakin' thing she'd ever seen, though.

"Kristy," he said firmly. She jumped, glaring at him.

"What?!" Ace snapped. "And the name's Ace."

He sighed heavily, his features softening. "Is, uh… Is there anything I can do to help you?"

Ace froze, glancing sideways at him, quirking a brow. She paused for a moment, letting the meaning of his question sink in. Help her? He wanted to help her? What made him think he could? She hated him. There was no way she would ever _let_ him do that.

"Um," she replied slowly, "_what_?"

Gordon repeated the question. Ace glared at him, clenching her fists, adrenaline pumping through her veins like wildfire. She frantically fought back the urge to lunge at him and claw his eyes out; instead, fiercely snarling, "No, there is nothing you can do to help me. There is no help for me. I don't want any help, anyways. I am perfectly content with my life exactly the way it is. Just me and my best friend, nobody else, _ever_. Why can't you just leave it alone?"

"I know who your father is," he stated calmly.

"How is that even relevant?!" Ace shouted.

A gargantuan explosion nearby suddenly rocked the building. Ace jumped nearly three feet in the air, knocking her chair over backwards and falling out of it. She hit the cement hard. Gordon leapt to his feet, inquiring if she was okay. The scarlet haired girl groaned, rubbing the spot on her head that she'd smacked against the floor. There was no blood, just a jolt of aching pain shooting through her body. When she could, she squeaked out, "I'm fine."

"I'll be right back," he informed her, darting out through the heavy metal door for the third time. Ace barely noticed his disappearance. All she knew was the pain reverberating in her skull, and the cold floor. Next thing she knew she could hear gunshots. Someone was firing a gun. Who would be crazy enough to waltz straight into the MCU and start shooting at cops?

Not anyone she had ever met, that was for sure.

At least eight shots were fired off, then silence. The stillness rung in her ears like a hive of angry, killer bees. Ace massaged her temples, soothing away the ache in her head. It subsided quickly, but she had to lie completely still for a moment, letting her vision readjust to her surroundings. After receiving a blow to the head like that, it was not the best idea to get up right away and start walking around. She just hoped she didn't have a concussion.

The door buzzed loudly, swung open slowly. Ace sat up enough to peer over the edge of the table. A tall man in a gray suit entered, his face covered in greasepaint. A rictus grin stretched across his disfigured face, yet he wasn't smiling. Hatred and fury blazed behind his absinthian emerald eyes, which had locked onto her. A shiver tickled up her spine, but she ignored the discomfort. The young woman rolled her eyes and carefully pulled herself to her feet.

Just what she needed. A confrontation with a freak wearing makeup.

But then she saw the gun held firmly in his leather clad hand, aimed right at her, and her heart dropped into her stomach.


	4. Conflict

**A/N: So, I'm not very good at writing about the Joker. I'm doing my best, though. If anyone has any suggestions on what I could do better, I'd be glad to hear them.**

* * *

**Chapter Three**

**Conflict**

Silver. The pistol was silver. Shiny. It had the word 'Joker' etched into the side of the barrel. And it was real. _This_ was real. Ace couldn't deny it, couldn't think otherwise. He was going to kill her. Gotham's clown prince of crime, its Ace of Knaves, was going to shoot her. But the more she thought about it, the more she had to question: why would he, of all people, come all this way to do just that? He didn't know who she was; had never seen her before. Why did he _care_? Why did he seem so intent on ridding her from the world?

Or maybe he was just doing this to scare the living hell out of her. Judging by the infuriated expression on his face, she doubted as much. His eyes were two smoldering pits of jade poison drowning in pools of ebony kohl greasepaint. Crimson slashed lips curved downwards into a frown. He was definitely _not_ smiling. You couldn't confuse that glare for childish amusement. No; he was mad. But why? And where the hell was Sinn?

The mere thought of her best friend in the whole world eased some of Ace's tensions. Sinn might have had the intention of lecturing the younger woman for about seventy-two hours straight when this was all over and done with, but if this madman decided to apply any amount of pressure on the gun's trigger, it wouldn't matter anymore. Ace would be gone forever and Sinn would lose the only person who cared for her. Funny how things never turned out quite the way you wanted them to.

Finally, a grin stole across the clown man's painted face, and he pulled the trigger.

The gun clicked. A small, steel rod with a piece of white cloth wrapped around it extended from the barrel. The cloth unraveled itself from the rod, hanging limply from it, the word 'BANG' printed on it in thick, black letters.

Ace nearly fainted.

"What the hell?" The scarlet haired girl demanded incredulously, a huge wave of relief washing over her entire body. The Joker burst into hysterical, wheezing laughter. Ace gritted her teeth together, her face contorted into one of almost blind fury. If she hadn't known better, she would have leapt at him, completely prepared to rip him to shreds with ruby red fingernails grown to claws. She barely knew him and already she hated the green-haired maniac.

_What an ass_, she thought crossly, scowling venomously at him.

"Some people just…_can't_ take a_ joke_," he said, disappointed, after calming himself down. He stowed the pistol somewhere inside his suit jacket. Ace stared hard at him when he withdrew a switchblade, fighting to suppress the boiling rage building in her chest.

"Well, if it involved a _gun_, I wouldn't blame them," she snapped, folding her arms across her chest indignantly. His grin widened with mad glee. A soft _chink_ almost made her heart stop. The psychotic clown took one threatening step towards her when the sound of Sinn's voice penetrated the silence.

"There you-" As Sinn entered the room, her ebony gaze trained on the Joker, she suddenly spotted Ace, and immediately rounded on the younger woman. "You _IDIOT_!"

"Excuse-"

"Not you," Sinn interrupted the painted man, glaring daggers at her friend. "I told you! I told you five thousand times and do you listen to me? _No_!" She shouted at the younger girl. "I cannot believe you did something this stupid! I knew it! I knew I should have listened to Adrian. But did I do it? No. I knew I should have taken his advice and _not_ let you out of the apartment. The worst you might have done was blow up the microwave. Again. Or set something on fire. Either way you'd be safe at home, not causing trouble and, more importantly, _not getting into trouble_." Sinn was breathing heavily, leather gloved hands clenched into fists, nostrils flared.

"I did this for a reason," Ace retorted.

Sinn stared expectantly at her.

Sighing, Ace added, "I wanted to get Gordon's attention."

"_Why_?"

Ace shrugged. "I uhnuh. I was bored."

Sinn looked ready to murder her friend. Both of them jumped when the Joker suddenly said, "No-_t_ that I am not enjoying thi_ssss_, bu_t_-uh… it's time to leave." They had momentarily forgotten he was in the room.

Sinn's expression softened a little. "Yes," she agreed, nodding. To Ace, she ordered, "Get your stuff." She started to turn to leave when she remembered something. "Oh, and by the way, young lady, you're not allowed out of the apartment for a year."

Ace's jaw hit the floor in disbelief. It didn't register with her that the Joker was giggling at the offended expression on her face. She had expected some form of punishment, but it would never have occurred to her that Sinn would ground her for a whole freaking _year_. She'd already experienced being trapped in the apartment for six months, and that nearly drove her insane. There was no way she'd survive an entire _year_.

_Bitch_, the young girl thought acidly.

* * *

"It's not fair!" Ace whined as she, Sinn, and the Joker entered their apartment some twenty minutes later. The Joker, irritated about the girls' ongoing argument that started nearly fifteen minutes ago with Sinn claiming that Ace was no longer allowed to drive the older girl's car, decided to wander around the living room, examining all their belongings.

There were several swords hanging on the walls, and a shotgun leaning against the wall next to the couch on the opposite side of the room. A black mask with a white rose and a single thorn painted on it was mounted on the wall above the couch. The clown man stared at the mask for a long moment, intrigued. He wondered for a moment which of the girls it belonged to. He guessed it was Sinn's. For some reason, Ace just didn't seem like the kind of person who would wear a mask.

He decided suddenly that he couldn't care less.

Next to the couch was a La-Z-Boy recliner. The entertainment center across from the couch had a huge HDTV sitting inside it with dozens of CDs and DVDs stocked inside the cabinets and two enormous speakers on either side of it. In front of the TV were a PS2 and an Xbox 360 along with a pile of video games and about six controllers, their wires tangled around each other. The madman, now very bored, threw himself into the recliner, only to find a red nano iPod sliding down into the depths of the chair; most likely Ace's. He grabbed it, started looking through the music that was on the tiny device.

"You never let me do _anything_!" This from Ace. She had taken her trench coat and gloves off and draped them over the back of one of the chairs in the dining room. The young girl appeared rather flustered as she leaned against the dinner table, glaring down at her hands.

Sinn glanced pointedly at Ace for a quick moment. She had already taken her leather gloves and coat off and hung her coat up on the rack by the front door. "Did you ever stop to think there might be a reason why I don't let you outside?" She demanded, disappearing into the kitchen.

The Joker glared at the red iPod, trying to ignore the two irritating females, with absolutely no luck.

"Huh, yeah, because you don't want me to have any fun."

"Not true, Ace." Sinn reappeared at the entrance into the kitchen, leaned against the wall, arms crossed over her chest. "Did you forget about Maroni?"

Ace looked at her friend, felt her anxiety spike just at the mention of the Italian mob boss's name. The Joker perked up, suddenly interested. He glanced over at the two girls, inquiring, "What, uh… What did Maroni _do_?"

"She was his slave for four years," Sinn explained calmly, ignoring the look of horror Ace shot her. "He tortured her and raped her. I was the one that found her when she ran away from him. I've been hiding her from him ever since."

"Can we not talk about him?" Ace didn't intend to sound so desperate, but she needed Sinn to stop talking right now. She didn't want to think about what she'd dealt with. She didn't want to remember; it was just too painful.

"Whatever." Sinn went back into the kitchen.

"Is the, uh, big-_uh_, _bad-uh_ mob boss jus-_t_…_ too much_ for a, ah, _helpless_ li_t-tle_ girl to, uh, _handle_?" The Joker asked Ace, grinning evilly. She froze, almost unable to believe what she was hearing. But she should have expected this of the clown prince of crime. It was his nature. He was going to insult them the entire time he was with them. Maybe she needed to learn to suck it up and tell him to hit the road. However, the thought of being stern with the Joker made her wish she could sink through the floor and disappear into an alternate reality, where he didn't exist.

The young girl eventually shook off her shock and scowled at him, feeling her hatred for him rising steadily, while also fighting to suppress the wave of sadness and fear threatening what little sanity she still had. He immediately exploded into a fit of giggles.

"Screw you," she snarled acidly. She had to wonder, still, why he was there. He could have left a long time ago, gone to disembowel some other poor, defenseless victims. But no. He stayed with her and Sinn. And for what? So he _could_ continue to antagonize them to the point of rage and fury, until one of them, namely Ace, decided it was time for him to die? Sheesh, what was it with this weirdo?

It was then she noticed he was holding her iPod. "Hey! That's mine!" She cried.

By now he had stopped laughing, and was smirking wickedly at her. The look that said he was dreaming up pure evil. Shivers ran up Ace's spine.

Great, now what was she to do? Ask him nicely to give the musical device back to her? Would he even oblige, and do as requested?

Ace decided she had about a two percent chance of that happening.

She took a single uneasy step towards him. The desire to lunge at him claws first was there, nagging her relentlessly to jump on him, but she also knew that attacking him would be a very bad idea. A small voice in her head told her not to, told her it wasn't worth it.

"Come and, uh, get it," he taunted, amused by her hesitation, and dropped her iPod into a pocket inside his suit jacket.

A surge of adrenaline shot through Ace's body, overwhelming her fear, and the next thing she knew she was standing directly in front of him, a hunting knife held firmly in her right hand. She wanted to stick the knife in his ribcage and twist, twist until she heard bones snapping and cartilage tearing, until she saw thick, crimson liquid gushing out of his body. The homicidally angry part of her willed her to do it, begging, pleading for his pain, yet something inside her, some strange emotion, wouldn't let her.

The Joker watched her intently, waiting to see if she would attack him. The young girl obviously did not care for the wellbeing of her fellow humans, save for Sinn, but Ace depended on Sinn for literally everything. So what was holding her back? Why was she just standing there with fury blazing behind her emerald eyes?

"Are you, uh, going to hell _too_, little Princess? I'll even let you carry my dynamite." He smirked, his mouth twisting demonically. Practically snarling, he growled, "Did anyone ever, uh, tell you you're kinduh… cute… when you're angry?" His mouth spasmed when she narrowed her gaze and raised her knife up into a position to strike. "You're _gorgeous_ when you're pissed."

The feral intensity of his gaze was mesmerizing. This was the single most terrifying moment in her entire life. He seemed as if he _wanted_ her to stab him. But why? What would that prove? To her utter dismay and horror, she found herself driving the razor knife down, down, down towards his chest. Everything was moving in slow motion, her heart was in her throat. The little voice in the back of her head started screaming, _NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!_

What the hell was she doing?

His hand shot up quickly and seized her wrist in a vice-like grip. The bones ground against each other painfully. She cried out, instinctively tried to pull away, but to no avail. He was too strong and he began to slowly pull her down closer to him until his face was a mere inch from hers. Ace could smell the gunpowder clinging to his body and felt another shiver, this time not of fear or disgust, crawl up her spine. She grabbed the armrest with her free hand, bracing herself, while continuing to try to free herself from his iron grasp.

The Joker's grin widened even more. Her eyes were wide with fear, and a small sound of disgust escaped her throat as he began licking her face like a mad dog.

"What the-" she tried, but couldn't find the right words to express her revulsion. The stench of coffee and spit and sweat filled her nostrils. This had to be the nastiest thing anyone had done to her in six months. "Stop!"

But he wouldn't stop, just kept licking her face with wild abandon, until she managed to summon the courage to grab him by the throat and force his face away from hers. He growled deep in his throat, said, "Two can play _that_ game."

His other hand was suddenly around her neck, crushing all the air from her body. She clawed at his arm with her free hand, her body convulsing with the need to fill her lungs with delicious air.

And then she was on her back on the floor and he was on top of her, straddling her hips and tightening his grip on her neck. Her head spun, tears stung her eyes. The dizziness worsened the more she fought to remain conscious. The knife she'd been holding onto so desperately was now in his hand, and he held it dangerously close to her face.

Hearing the entire ruckus, Sinn emerged from within the kitchen, yelling, "Hey! Don't make me turn the hose on you two."

The madman simply started laughing. Sinn was no fun. Besides, he had no intention of killing Ace; he just wanted to instill a healthy dose of fear into the young woman. Judging by the look of sheer terror on her face, he had succeeded. However, he was not finished with her, with either of them. Not by a long shot.

Without a word, the Joker released Ace, slowly got to his feet. He pocketed her hunting knife before disappearing down the hallway towards one of the bedrooms. Ace sat up slowly, coughing and gasping and rubbing her neck. Sinn was by Ace's side in a flash, extending her hand out to the younger girl to help her to her feet.

"What took you so long?" Ace demanded hoarsely.

"Sorry," Sinn said. "I was hoping the situation would diffuse itself."

Ace gave her a deadpan look.

"What!? So, I was wrong, obviously. I said I'm sorry."

Ace sighed, shook her head. "Whatever."

They were silent for a moment.

"Now, I don't know about you," Sinn said suddenly, surprising them both, "but he desperately needs a new suit."

Ace smoothed her hair back down and dusted herself off. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I agree with you."


End file.
